


A Very Gas-N-Sip Christmas

by amoosebouche



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Hunters, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Humor, Castiel (Supernatural) Works at Gas-N-Sip, Christmas, Developing Friendships, Family Don't End in Blood, Gas-N-Sip, Gen, Gratuitous Die Hard References, Holiday Mixtape 2017, Holidays, Human Castiel, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Loneliness, POV Castiel, canon adjacent, castiel was always human
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 02:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12998145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amoosebouche/pseuds/amoosebouche
Summary: Winter is cold and lonely at the best of times—and Cas is going through the worst period of his life.  There’s no solace for him in the quickly approaching holidays, not when he’s without family and friends and teetering on the edge of financial disaster. But when two strangers sweep into his Gas-N-Sip and manage to strike up a fragile friendship with him, Cas might finally let himself be drawn out of his protective cocoon.





	A Very Gas-N-Sip Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not the biggest holiday person and 2017 was pretty fucking bleak, so I wasn't able to cram much holiday cheer in here--but I really truly promise it's not a depressing slog the whole way through. I mean, I hope _none_ of it is a depressing slog, but it's not beta read, so who knows. Anyway... here's my entry for the 2017 Holiday Mixtape!
> 
>  
> 
> _Brought to you by multiple rewatches of A Very Supernatural Christmas, an eternal fondness for Heaven Can't Wait, my dad being a jerk over Thanksgiving, and my gaming group's annual viewing of Die Hard._

It’s colder this year than last year, even though there hasn’t been so much as a single snowflake and it’s already ten days before Christmas, not that the holiday has any meaning left for Cas. Not when he has no family left to speak of, nor friends, nor any hope of normalcy. All he has is work, and his work is endless drudgery, fake cheer, and mindless repetition. The holiday lights that his manager Nora put up outside the Gas-N-Sip blink sleepily, harsh colors muted by the frost that creeps along the large window facing the gas pumps. Inside, you wouldn’t even know there was a holiday approaching except for the cheesy music and the cardboard cutout tree that’s part of a beer advertisement. The cutout isn’t even a proper evergreen, but the image of a palm tree with some lights strung up on it.

It’s late, and no one is in the store, but he has another hour before he can lock up and go back to the studio apartment he sublets from a college student gone home for the winter break. It’s crappy but it’s cheap, and much warmer than his car, so he resolves not to whine about it too much. No matter his life is shit, no matter he’s on his last rope, no matter he’s barely keeping his head above water; he will not unduly complain.

The bell over the door sounds and Cas snaps out of his dreary thoughts. Two men storm inside, sweeping cold air along with them. Cas rouses slightly at the bracing chill, but quickly loses interest. They’re arguing about something, just loud enough to make him feel uncomfortable but not so loud he can hear what they’re arguing about, which is probably for the best. The amount of contempt and familiarity they display means they’re either family or lovers, and both prospects fill him with sour, bilious envy. The men head toward the back wall where the beer coolers are, and Cas resolutely turns away and tries to clear his head with the medical drama showing on the little TV on his back counter.

The argument is still going strong as the men approach the register a few minutes later, and no sooner does the shorter one set his items on the counter than the taller takes off outside, the door jangling angrily in his wake.

“Hey,” the remaining man greets him. “Don’t mind him, he just hates the holidays.” His gaze travels down to Cas’s name tag before snapping back up to make eye contact once again. He is perhaps in his mid-thirties, and quite handsome with his earthy green eyes, winter-faded freckles and day-old stubble, but also fatigued and weary if the redness of his eyes and the drawn look to his mouth are any indication.

“Don’t we all?” Cas says. He remembers too late that he’s supposed to be friendly, and smiles at the man.

“Good show,” the man says. “One of my favorites.”

The non-sequitur puzzles Cas, until the man takes pity on him and nods back toward the TV. “Dr. Sexy. It’s a good—”

“Show,” Cas finishes for him. He shrugs in apology. “I don’t really pay attention to it. The TV is just there to help pass the time.”

He doesn’t think it’s necessary to tell the customer how woefully inaccurate the show is, since he seems to enjoy it, and the conversation lapses. Cas begins to bag up his items.

The man drums his fingers on the counter. “So, not exactly a fan of the holidays?”

“No, not exactly. Although I think I’m supposed to at least pretend while I’m up at the register.”

“Yeah, does kind of dampen the holiday spirit when you’re workin’.”

“That, among other things.”

“Don’t I know it,” the man gripes halfheartedly. He glances out toward the parking lot where his partner went.

“Will this be all, or may I interest you in any of our holiday specials?” Cas asks, and winces at how robotic he sounds.

The man scoffs at some private joke and drops a few bills on the counter. “Nah, that’s all. Thanks, Steve. Have a good night.”

He doesn’t wait for his nine cents change, and Cas is left staring after him. After a few moments he glances down and pulls the name tag pin off of his blue uniform vest. ‘Steve’ quit a few weeks ago, which is the only reason Cas found a job so quickly after being fired. Nora explained that she had such high turnover there wasn’t any point in ordering more pins, and Cas never bothered to remove it since he also hoped not to be here very long, and couldn’t imagine he’d be bothered by being known as Steve, if anyone even took the time to notice. The man tonight was the first person to do so, and Cas has a new appreciation for how off-putting it is to be called by someone else’s name.

That and the fact that the rest of the evening is uneventful to the extreme are the only reasons the encounter with the man sticks in his head until the next day. Cas remains pinless, and no one cares. The people that come into the Gas-N-Sip are all engrossed in their own lives; busy, and probably worried about the approaching holiday. For every Christmas-themed gift card he sells, for every ridiculous sweater he sees, for every version of Santa Baby that pipes through the tinny store speakers, Cas feels more and more disconnected from reality. He’s not even sure he’s still a person by the time his relief comes in (late, which pushes Cas’s lunch break back even further). He’s just about to pull off his vest and walk off and leave the register unattended because Josh hasn’t come out of the back room yet when a large black car rumbles through the parking lot and pulls up to a spot in front of the door.

It’s an unusual enough sight that Cas stays put; when the man from the previous night exits the car, Cas inexplicably wishes he’d gone in back after all. It makes no sense; the man did nothing more than notice his name tag and wish him a good evening. Cas supposes he’s gone long enough with meaningful human contact that any little scrap of it is new and scary, and takes time to acclimate to. _How the mighty have fallen_ , he thinks wryly. 

“Hey again,” a voice in front of him says, and Cas realizes his mind went wandering and it is now definitely too late to escape. The man smiles up at him somewhat tentatively and sets down some wrapped sandwiches, a tray with two coffees, and a bag of donuts. Cas starts to reach out to scan an item when Josh nudges him aside.

“I got this, man, if you wanna take your break.”

Cas is hungry. He’s grumpy and absolutely more than ready to sit in the back room by himself for thirty minutes and read one of the battered magazines that passes as break room entertainment, but for some reason he shifts his weight and pushes back against Josh.

“I already started,” Cas says. It’s not strictly true, but it’s enough for Josh, who shrugs and steps back.

Now that he’s done something unexpected, Cas falls back into silence and scans the man’s items quickly.

“Not Steve today?” the man asks as Cas bags the sandwiches. He points vaguely at Cas’s vest, where pinpricks still mar the blue material.

“It’s actually Cas. Steve was my predecessor.”

“Cas,” he replies. He sounds thoughtful. “I like it. Name’s Dean.”

“Nice to meet you, Dean.” Cas isn’t sure that’s true, either, because _nice_ means safe, expected, unchanging. Not that making conversation with someone clearly just passing through was all that life-altering, but Cas has kept to himself since he lost his job, since he got disowned. Since he came out. Keeping his walls up had been slowly killing him, but he didn’t know what else to do, how else to be. Dean is unfairly attractive, though, and Cas can’t seem to help gravitating toward him. His being chatty and friendly don’t help much, either.

“Likewise,” Dean says. He takes the bag but pauses, looks out the window to the big black car. Cas follows the look, and now he notices the silhouette of someone tall seated in the passenger seat. “Me ‘n my brother are gonna be in town a little while, staying at that craphole next door, so you’ll probably get sick of us real soon, but, uh. It’ll be nice to see a friendly face around now and then.”

“Yes, it will,” Cas finds himself saying. He realizes he means it, and smiles.

Dean returns the smile and raises his shopping bag in a bizarre sort of salute, and then he’s gone.

  
  


Two days later Cas gets the chance to continue this strange nascent friendship. Late at night, just a little before closing, the black car pulls up in front of the shop. The night is so dark the car almost disappears once the headlights go dark, so Cas doesn’t notice that it’s Dean’s brother this time until the man steps inside. His hair has fallen in his face, and it’s only due to the man’s height and the black car that Cas recognizes him at all. He makes a beeline for the medicine aisle, and a few minutes later dashes up to the counter with hydrogen peroxide, gauze, first aid tape, and dental floss. Before Cas can make sense of the assortment, the man disappears and comes back with a bottle of bottom-shelf rotgut vodka and sets it down on the counter too.

“Uh…” Cas says.

“Sorry, I’m kinda in a hurry,” the man says, and Cas jolts into motion.

He gets his first good look at Dean’s brother as he scans. He’s taller than Dean, but seems less weighted down in comparison to Dean’s air of world-weariness, although maybe he’s just younger. But more importantly, he has the beginnings of a black eye and a shallow cut on his temple.

“Are you hurt? Is Dean alright?” Cas asks, making a leap he hopes pays off.

The man seems startled that Cas knows Dean, and Cas surmises he hadn’t paid any attention to him that first night they stopped in. “Yeah. He is. He will be.”

He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of that fact, and Cas takes a deep breath. If Dean’s brother is in here buying first aid supplies and not taking Dean to the hospital or at least an urgent care, as most people would do, there must be some reason for it. Cas may come to regret this, but ignoring those who may need his assistance would be nigh unforgivable.

“This may be too forward, but I am—I _used_ to be a nurse, and I was good at it. If you need any help… any at all, I don’t mind lending a hand. I’m very discreet.”

He stares back at Cas for a few seconds as he chews on his lip. “Thanks, but it’s not necessary. I mean, I’ve been patching Dean up for years, by now I should know what I’m doing. But, uh, thanks. That really means a lot.”

“Of course.” Cas fights down a stab of disappointment at the lost chance to be useful when someone actually needs it. He grabs the man’s receipt out of his hand and scrawls his name and cell number on the back. “But if you run into any complications, please don’t hesitate to contact me.”

“Cas,” the man reads off the receipt, and the way he says it reminds him of Dean. “Thanks, Cas. I’m Sam, by the way. Uh, I’d better get going though, Dean’s already pretty crabby about bleeding all over the car.”

Sam takes long strides out to said car, and soon it peels away.

Cas stares at the empty parking spot for far too long, and wonders if Sam had been joking about how much Dean was bleeding.

  
  


A day passes without word from either brother, and Cas realizes he’s gotten much too invested in people he’ll probably never hear from again. Nevertheless, he scans the local news sites, wondering if there’s any mention of whatever fracas caused the injuries to them. The most noteworthy things to happen in his town are auto collisions and shopliftings, although the next town over has had a run of bad luck lately. Several people had gone missing over the past few weeks, and yesterday—the morning after Sam had come in for first aid supplies—the body of the first missing person was found in a field… without its head.

Cas shudders a bit at the grim reveal, and selects the next local headline without looking at it. Bile rises in his throat, but it’s not the beheading that makes him ill this time. _St. Charles Hospital adopts new measures to celebrate its long-standing Christian values_ , the first line of the article reads, and Cas closes the browser window with an angry swipe. Last he knew, Christian values did not include forcing misogynistic and homophobic viewpoints onto all employees. Removing family planning from employee health plans was bad enough, but publicly proclaiming that the organization would not support or even tolerate ‘aberrant lifestyles’ had been the last straw for Cas. He’d thought that coming out would get certain members of the board to rethink their position, but he’d thought wrong, and he’d paid for his disobedience.

“Bad news?”

Cas looks up in surprise. “Sam! You’re still in town?”

Sam makes a displeased moue. The cut on his forehead has started to scab, but the black eye is still pretty apparent. “Dean and I are working a, uh, temp job that’s not going quite as planned.”

“He’s all right, then, I hope? I’m sorry if I pry, but once a medical professional…”

Sam laughs. He doesn’t sound upset by Cas’s interest, and Cas takes that as a good sign. “No, no. He’s alright, more or less. Little banged up but recovering nicely.”

Sam sets down several wrapped sandwiches and cold drinks, some bananas and apples, and a large bottle of juice.

“It’s probably against store policy to encourage you to spend your money elsewhere, but my principles insist I inform you that Gas-N-Sip sandwiches are not suitable for long-term sustenance.”

“No, I know. But they’re better than most of the fast food places around here. You might not realize it, but the company that makes these actually isn’t too bad. They don’t use high fructose corn syrup or too much refined sugar, and the sodium content isn’t more than fifty percent of the daily recommended amount like most pre-packaged sandwiches, plus I found one that has a good mix of greens, and Dean actually eats it…. Aaaand, you probably don’t care about any of this,” Sam ducks his head down, but Cas can see the smile hovering. “Dean hates when I go off on a tangent.”

Cas is touched by Sam’s earnestness, and the urge to have a decent conversation with someone like-minded for the first time in ages is too much to ignore. “Oh, but I do care. Before I lost my job and access to charity funding, I had plans to start a community garden and bee sanctuary this spring with a group I volunteered for.” 

Sam grins at him. “That sounds cool, Cas. Wanna tell me about it?”

  
  


Cas sees Sam and Dean throughout the rest of the week, and they remain just as pleasant and talkative. He learns that the brothers have been doing piecemeal contract work together for years, that it was a career path they inherited from their now-deceased father, and that Sam is thinking about going back to college to finish his degree. Dean confesses that he’s torn between supporting Sam and the dread of losing him, so they argue about it frequently. Cas surmises that’s what they were heatedly discussing that first night. He feels drawn to both sides of the conflict: to Sam, for having goals and a plan to meet those goals; to Dean, for valuing what he has left of family and struggling to keep it together. Cas counts himself fortunate that he hasn’t been asked to weigh in on one side or the other.

Dean has healed rather well. He comes in alone one night a few days before Christmas and shows off a rather nasty-looking wound on his neck. This must be the one that Sam had to ‘patch up’ with dental floss and vodka, and Cas admires the work with some trepidation, but it doesn’t look infected. Dean knows by now that Cas used to be a nurse, but not the exact circumstances that led to it being past-tense, and rather gleefully catalogs his near-fatal incidents over the years.

“What on earth do you do that’s so consistently dangerous?” Cas interrupts Dean in the midst of a story about being electrocuted by his own taser.

“You’ll never guess,” Dean says with a grin. He sips his coffee, which is probably lukewarm by now since they’ve been chatting for over twenty minutes, but doesn’t seem to mind.

“Whatever it is, it pays under the table,” Cas muses. Dean’s brows jump up, and Cas knows he’s on the right track. “And it frequently devolves to some sort of combat. You move from town to town…”

Cas trails off as he remembers the headless body found in the field next town over. He’d kept up with the developing story, and since then one other body, similarly disfigured, had been found next to the exsanguinated body of one of the other missing persons. The last missing person is still unaccounted for, but local police aren’t very hopeful. A horrible thought occurs to him. Cas actually feels the blood rush out of his face as his ears start to buzz. “Oh my god. Oh my _god._ You’re… you’re contract killers, aren’t you? You work for the mob, or a cartel...”

Dean loses his smirk, and Cas doesn’t know whether it’s due to hitting the mark, or the fact that he appears to be in the midst of fainting. Dean scrambles around the counter and gets his arms under Cas’s armpits before Cas can completely lose his balance and helps him to the low step stool.

He’s still there a few minutes later when Cas’s head finally clears.

“You watch way too much TV.” Dean regards him with a serious expression, and reaches into his jacket. Cas has a fleeting certainty that he’s about to pull out a gun, but then Dean presents him with a small black folio that he flips open to reveal a federal badge that he closes too quickly for Cas to get more than a glimpse.

“Wh—what is going on?”

“We aren’t hitmen, Cas. We’re, uh, we’re on a case involving the missing people in the next town.” Dean smiles tentatively, hopefully.

Cas’s brain is still moving rather sluggishly, but a detail sticks out in his mind, begs to be clarified.

“But… you’re brothers? And you work for the F.B.I. together? And Sam mentioned you both following in your father’s footsteps, did he also work for the government?”

Dean’s smile falters. “Shit. Uh, it’s a long story. Yes, Sam and I are really brothers, and we do work together. But I promise you, we don’t run around killing people. We help people. We try to. You good to stand, or do I gotta hover over you some more? ‘Cuz I gotta say, you’re a good-looking dude, but not _that_ good-looking, and you’re heavier than you look.”

Cas flushes and wonders if his attraction is really that transparent, and why Dean is teasing him about it; the idea that Dean is hitting on him is, of course, ludicrous. The man looks incredibly straight. But the exchange has the bonus effect of convincing Cas that Dean doesn’t mean him any harm. He may not know Dean _well_ , but there’s just something about him that reeks of innate goodness. There’s sincerity and earnestness to his claim that he and Sam are only out to help people. As if to prove the point, Cas has to shake off Dean’s helping hand when he goes to stand up. “I’m fine, Dean. I don’t know why I reacted like that. It’s quite absurd, now that I take the time to think about it. I’m sorry if I made you worry.”

“Not gonna lie, me ‘n Sam live a weird life. Hard to relate to other people sometimes when we spend so much time on the road by ourselves.”

“It sounds lonely,” Cas says.

“Yeah, it is, but it’s alright. We got each other… for now,” Dean says, turning glum. “Enough of that though. We should be wrapping up in town in a day or so, so we’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“I’m not looking forward to that.” Dean and Sam are, sadly enough, the closest thing he has to friends right now. After he’d been disowned, all his so-called friends had abandoned him as well.

“Really?” Dean says. He seems surprised by the sentiment. “With Christmas a few days away you aren’t aching to toss me out on my ass, go back to your normal life that doesn’t involve feds who get beat up a lot?”

Cas sighs. If they truly are going to be gone in a day or so, there’s no harm in confessing. “I don’t have a normal life any longer. I lost my job and my family when I came out. It was a misguided attempt to convince hospital administration that being queer isn’t aberrant behavior.”

“You thought that’d work?”

“Well, I have several family members on the board. I was certain that once they realized I’m one of ‘the gays’ they would reconsider their position on that awful policy, and reverse the decision. It turned out I didn’t know my family at all. They chose their donors and their ‘Christian values’ over me.”

Dean is quiet for a few moments, then his hand comes rest on Cas’s shoulder. It’s a solid, comforting weight of a kind that Cas has gone far too long without. “That really sucks, man. I’d die for Sam, but believe me, no one can fuck you up as much as family can. They got a knack for finding your weak spot and shanking you in it.”

Cas looks up, and Dean is watching him somberly. “You sound like you know.”

Dean shrugs and his hand falls away to fiddle with a display of lighters. “Yeah. Not… not exactly one-hundred percent straight myself. My dad… he wasn’t _bad_ about it, not like your family, not nearly on the same level of suck, but he wasn’t supportive, either. He wasn’t ready to pick me over his, uh, colleagues, so I had to pretend, had to hide. But it wears you down if it goes on long enough, you know? And he passed away before I could really resolve anything with him, so everything feels… unfinished.”

To say that Cas is startled by the revelation is a gross understatement, but then it starts to sink in, and certain things start to make a lot more sense.

“I see. I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas says, but the words feel so inadequate. “And your father not being there for you… that’s not any better or easier than what I went through.”

“Guess we’re all fucked up one way or another.” Dean laughs and raises his coffee in a mocking salute. “To family.”

Cas grabs his own foam cup and echoes the movement. “Indeed.”

  
  


On Christmas Eve, Sam darts into the store and tosses a casual greeting over his shoulder as he disappears into the aisles at the back of the building. A few minutes later he comes up to the register. Today he’s buying an odd assortment: premade eggnog in a plastic milk jug, rum, motor oil, and candy bars. He slows as something catches his eye.

“These new?” Sam says. He grabs a box of multicolored outdoor lights and sets it on the counter, then stacks a second box next to it.

“Nora managed to get a few boxes from a local supplier. They’ve been selling well. It appears many folks don’t prepare for the holidays in advance and scramble at the last minute.”

Sam laughs. “Hit the nail right on the head. Actually, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to celebrate this year. It’s, uh, well, you know I’ve been thinking about school, and Dean got all pissy about it. Once he got over _that_ , he wanted to acknowledge our ‘possible last Christmas’ together as a team by going all out. Only thing is, we had a pretty shitty childhood, and for him ‘all out’ means a throwback with crappy presents sto—uh, _meant_ for someone else, newspaper wrapping paper, and Dad nowhere in the picture. Was never very fun for me, but for some reason he has good memories of it. Anyway, yeah, not something I normally want to commemorate, but this case—this job we were working, it got me thinking. I’m lucky to have him in my life, and if I leave I’m gonna miss him, so why not give him what he wants, you know?”

“I understand,” Cas says, even though he doesn’t, not really. Sam and Dean’s upbringing was miles away from his own, with his family's’ ten-foot tree decorated in stark uniform white, evergreen swags and stockings lining the mantel, crystal glasses of rum punch and a cookie spread made by the cook, Christmas Eve mandatory church service and a Christmas Day dinner for twenty people. For all the pomp and tradition, though, the way his family celebrated the holiday had always felt meaningless and trivial, so maybe a tiny part of him _does_ understand, just a little.

“Uh, anyway,” Sam fumbles, as if he didn’t mean to disclose so much to Cas. “That’s why I’m picking up some last minute gifts for Dean. I even found a raggedly Charlie Brown tree at that place on the other end of town. It’ll be a big surprise, he’ll probably completely lose his mind when he sees it all.”

“Oh, is he not at the motel?” Cas hates himself for asking, for wondering what Dean would be doing without Sam the night before Christmas.

“Nah, I sent him across town in search of a very particular ale he probably won’t find outside of Belgium. That’ll give me plenty of time to get the room set up. Hey, Cas…”

“Yes?”

Sam pauses and a brief frown passes over his face. “Uh, you know what, nevermind. Sorry, not my place. We’re probably leaving town tomorrow, so if I don’t see you… You take care, all right?”

“I will, Sam. Thank you. And you too.”

Cas takes pains to smile widely until Sam walks out the door, then lets the hollow feeling in his chest grow and grow until it wipes the smile off his face.

  
  


An hour later Dean storms into the Gas-N-Sip.

“Heya, Cas,” he calls as he stalks right to the beer cooler.

Cas waves in response. He doesn’t quite trust himself to keep Sam’s surprise a secret, and he’s also counting out change for a customer.

Dean eventually comes up to the registers with an almost equally bizarre selection as Sam had: a case of beer, a couple of porn magazines, shaving cream, and a cheap knockoff Barbie. He chuckles as he hands over the doll, and Cas thinks it’s another inside joke between the brothers. He wishes he’d been as close to any of his family, even before he was disowned.

“Can’t believe Sam sent me all across town for some stupid import that he probably made up. Wild goose chase on Christmas Eve, of all nights.”

Cas can’t do more than hum noncommittally.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean says when Cas hands over the bag of goods. “You got any day-old papers?”

There’s a bit of an awkward pause after Cas gives Dean the papers from behind the counter, before he thinks _to hell with it_ and puts words to the turmoil in his mind. “I understand you’ll likely be departing tomorrow. I hope you have an enjoyable evening, and that you and Sam stay safe during your travels.”

“Yeah, about that… I’m not really keen on leaving town just yet, you know? Uh, I mean, that case was a rough one. Sam thinks we’re all wrapped up, but I’m not entirely sure, you know?”

“I see,” Cas says evenly, but inside his heart is swelling. He’s only known the brothers less than two weeks, but has come enjoy their company immensely, even depend on them to stave off the worst of his loneliness and despair. He knows, he _knows_ that they can’t stick around forever, he doesn’t want them to feel like they should for his sake, but he can’t help the bubbling happiness he feels at Dean’s words.

Dean smiles at him, and for the life of him, Cas doesn’t know why.

“What time you get off?”

“Pardon?”

“When’s your shift end?”

“Nora is closing tonight. I’ll be done in about forty minutes.”

“Cool, cool.” Dean fiddles with the lighter display. Cas wonders if he used to be a smoker. “You should, uh, you should come over when you’re done, hang with me ‘n Sam. He doesn’t really like to do the whole holiday thing, you know, but I couldn’t _not_ get him presents, he’s my gigantor little brother.”

Cas fights to hide his smile.

“Anyway, I figure we’re gonna get some delivery from the hibachi place across the street, slam some brewskies, watch crappy Christmas specials and pass out around midnight. You should totally come, it’ll be a blast. Not like you got anywhere else to be, right?” Dean flushes as he says the words, but then looks a little defiant about it.

Cas ignores the statement and nods. “I think I’d like that, Dean. Thank you.”

  
  


Sam and Dean’s motel room is easy to find. It’s the only one with lights strung up outside, and the big black car is parked out right in front, as well. Snow has started to fall, the giant, fluffy flakes that Cas liked so much as a child. It’s cold enough that the snow should stick without melting. Despite his general hostility for the holidays, he’s happy about the snowfall. Cas knocks on the door, and Sam answers. He’s got a big, dopey grin on his face and is far too pleased to see Cas, so he must be slightly tipsy.

“Cas, my man! C’mon in! Hope Dean didn’t bully you into hanging out with us.”

“He didn’t, I’m quite happy to spend time with the both of you. Dean said I didn’t need to bring anything, but these fancy nuts were on special, and I wanted to contribute to the festivities.”

“Hah!” Sam finds that hilarious and slaps Cas on the back, steers him into the motel room. It’s larger than he imagined it would be, decorated with an alarming amount of green, a humongous winter landscape gracing the wall behind the queen beds, and one brick-lined wall. Sam has managed to make the room look rather festive. The Christmas tree is propped up in a bucket and liberally draped in the second string of winking lights. The tree is so tiny that the lights extend to the wall dividing the beds from the rest of the room. Ripped newspaper is strewn all over the kitchenette dining table, along with the motor oil, candy (some eaten), and magazines. The doll, still in its package, is in the trash. Cas makes a note to rescue the poor thing and donate it somewhere.

“You made it!” Dean jumps up from the pea-green loveseat and points to a plastic cup of eggnog on the little coffee table. “Pull up a chair, grab a drink. Look at this place! Sammy went all out. I love it. Food should be here soon, but we got started on the eggnog already.”

Cas can tell from the identical grins the brothers have. He picks up the cup Dean pointed out to him and takes a sip. He nearly chokes. “It’s got quite a kick!”

“That’s Sammy’s doing,” Dean says. He’s got a wide grin on his face, and Cas can’t say he’s ever seen Dean happier than he is in this moment. It’s infectious, and he feels an answering smile flower into being. It may be new, it may be temporary, but Cas is infinitely glad he met these two people. He doesn’t like to think how his winter would be progressing without their presence in his life. He feels a little more hopeful for his own future, a little less anxious about his place in the world.

“Thank you both for taking me in,” he says as emotion threatens to choke him more than the eggnog had.

“Well, you been through a lot of shit,” Dean says. “Family can really mess you up. You, me, Sammy, we all know this. We all lived it. But as our Uncle Bobby likes to say, _family don’t end with blood_.”

“You choose your family, those who are important to you. It doesn’t have to be the people who betrayed you,” Sam adds. “Dean and I are lucky enough to have people like that, even though they aren’t nearby.”

Cas nods. “I’ve never felt entirely welcome with my family, never felt like I really belonged, but it wasn’t until recently I realized just how true that was. There are people—old friends of mine—but I’ve lost contact with them in the years since we finished school. We used to be so close, and… Well. Sometimes you just drift away from people. None of them settled around here as far as I know, but that hardly matters any more, does it?”

It is a bit freeing to realize there’s nothing holding him here anymore; along with the freedom, though, comes the anxiety of stepping into unknown territory. He lost contact with Gabe and Balthazar and Hannah so long ago, but he could look them up, reach out… Maybe they’d reject him too, maybe they wouldn’t, but it isn’t as if he has anything else to lose. Not anymore.

“You could still work on your bee sanctuary, too. Maybe not bankroll it with family charity funds like you wanted, and it might be a lot more work, but I bet it’s still possible,” Sam says, and Cas jolts back to attention.

Cas sees Dean mouth _bee sanctuary?_ , and he seems a little put out, but at least he’s not mocking the idea.

“And you have us now, too,” Sam continues. Cas’s phone buzzes. “Might be a little presumptuous, but… I just sent you a text with our numbers.”

“Thank you, Sam. It’s not presumptuous at all..”

“No problem. It’s good to have you here, man.”

Cas needs to diffuse the almost suffocating feeling of goodwill a little. “All right, well, I believe I was promised ‘crappy Christmas movies’ to go along with all of this alcohol and sentiment. What are we watching?”

Sam quirks an eyebrow. “If I know Dean, he’ll start us off with _Die Hard_ , and then move on to _Die Hard 2_.”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey. There is absolutely nothing crappy about the _Die Hard_ franchise. Well, jury’s still out on anything past the third one, but they have their moments.”

“They really don’t,” Sam says. He leans back on the loveseat and stretches his legs out in front of him. “But then again, you have terrible taste in movies. It’s kind of your thing.”

“You shut your mouth. I won’t have any of that blasphemy against the greatest Christmas movie of all time. If you’re gonna talk nonsense like that you can go sleep in the car,” Dean says.

“How is _Die Hard_ a Christmas movie?” Cas asks, yet again bewildered by the brothers’ banter.

“Oh ho ho! Excellent question.” Dean opens the laptop and positions it in the center of the coffee table. He rubs his hands together. “Buckle up, buttercup, because you, my friend, are about to learn some things.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Can we just get this over with?”

“Oh, Sammy, this is just the beginning,” Dean says. He grins at Cas, and Cas—not really sure what he’s getting himself into, but thinking it’s still probably worth it in the end—smiles back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic (and even if you didn't, lol), you can reblog the Tumblr post here: <http://holidaymixtape.tumblr.com/post/168514285735/title-a-very-gas-n-sip-christmas-author>


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